


Auld Lang Syne

by kashiichan



Series: Ineffable Holidays [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Aziraphale is gayer than etc, Crowley is demisexual, Crowley's Name, Established Relationship, Holidays, Implied Sexual Content, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, New Year's Eve, Other, having a physical sex has become virtually effortless by now, no beta we die like men, they've both been on Earth too long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:15:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21765892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kashiichan/pseuds/kashiichan
Summary: "Auld lang syne... essentially calls for the preservation of our oldest, dearest friendships. This is observed in the reflective quality of New Year’s Eve itself; a time when people come together to recall past joys and sorrows—especially those spent in each other’s company."Should auld acquaintance be forgot,and never brought to mind?Oh we’ve wander’d mony a weary footsin' auld lang syne
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: Ineffable Holidays [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1563442
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Auld Lang Syne

Aziraphale is startled out of his book when the fireworks start going off. Crowley opens his eyes, but otherwise doesn't move. "Happy new year, angel."

"Goodness," Aziraphale exclaims. "Already?"

"They seem to think so," Crowley drawls. He's sprawled out over the entire couch, using Aziraphale's thigh like a pillow. The angel doesn't mind, though; Crowley only takes up space like this when he feels safe and comfortable, so it's actually quite flattering.

Aziraphale slips his bookmark in between the pages and sets the book aside. "Did you have a good nap?" he asks, using his fingertips to brush the demon's messy hair back off his forehead. Crowley hums an affirmative, letting his eyes slide shut again as Aziraphale pets him.

They listen to the sound of fireworks for a while. A small group of dyed-bright young people[1], huddled together under the bookshop's external door lamp, are exchanging late Christmas gifts.

"How did they came up with fireworks[2]?" the angel wonders, extending the door's overhang out further with a gestured miracle. None of the teenagers seem to notice, but Aziraphale is pleased that the snow is no longer landing on Avery; they've already had one hypothermia scare this season.

"If I've learnt anything about humans," Crowley says wryly, "it's that most of their really cool inventions started off as accidents."

"Fireworks were accidental?" Aziraphale asks, surprised.

"Gunpowder was accidental," Crowley clarifies. "Chinese alchemists were looking for eternal life, but some of their creations turned out to be a tad flammable."

"Well, that's worrying."

"Gunpowder led to firecrackers," Crowley continues, "but mostly they just used them for scaring evil spirits, weddings, all that stuff. It took a few hundred years to turn them into proper explosives."

"How did they get the colours?" Aziraphale asks curiously.

"Ancient fireworks were all orange," Crowley says. "The Italians fiddled with the mixture of elements to get other colours, like blue and green. Modern fireworks are what they are because of them."

"Amazing," Aziraphale murmurs.

"Those Renaissance dudes were true artisans," Crowley says approvingly. "They used _explosions_ to paint on the _sky_."

They listen to the sounds of celebration as Aziraphale strokes through Crowley's hair. The fire in the hearth has finally reached the juniper branch[3], and its sweet-cedar scent is starting to drift through the room.

Eventually the loud noises of fireworks die out, allowing the city sounds to creep back in. Someone starts drunkenly singing _Auld Lang Syne_ in a nearby pub, and it's not long before other people join in. The young people at the door exchange hugs and air kisses as they bid each other goodbye, then head off in different directions.

"Do you ever think about the Beginning?" Aziraphale asks.

"Try not to," the demon hums. "Why?"

"I was just wondering," Aziraphale says guiltily.

"Well, whatever it is you're wondering," Crowley says, opening his eyes, "you can ask."

"Why did you choose 'Crowley'?"

"It was better than 'Crawly'," the demon says patiently. "What's your real question?"

Aziraphale hesitates, but Crowley waits him out. "What was your name?" Aziraphale eventually asks. "Before."

Crowley opens his mouth as if to reply, but no words come out and he sighs in frustration.

"You don't have to tell me," Aziraphale says gently.

"I would, but I can't," Crowley admits. "I don't have it anymore[4]."

"What do you mean?"

"It's like... reverb," Crowley says slowly. "It's on the tip of my tongue; I can feel the vibrations of it, the _shape_ of it, but it's not quite there."

"Well, what were your tasks?" Aziraphale asks. "Maybe we can work it out that way."

Crowley thinks about this for a while. "I don't know," he says at last. "It's murky. Too many shadows."

"How odd," Aziraphale frowns. "Surely your job wasn't that important?"

"Oh, thanks," Crowley says dryly.

"I just meant that surely you weren't the only angel doing... whatever it was?" Aziraphale says quickly. "There are very few tasks that are managed by one angel alone."

Crowley goes to respond, realises the expected words aren't there, and hisses in frustration.

"How strange," Aziraphale says curiously. "It's not just the name itself that's gone, it's the context of it too."

"Yeah, probably," Crowley sighs. "Can't do anything by halves, I suppose."

"I'm sorry, my dear," Aziraphale says gently, stroking the pad of his thumb along the demon's right cheekbone. The slitted pupils of his serpentine eyes are huge in the low-lit room. "I was just curious."

"It's fine," Crowley shrugs, rubbing his cheek against the angel's hand. "Not like it matters anymore; I've been Crowley for a lot longer than I was... whatever it was."

"Do you think we met?" Aziraphale wonders, going back to playing with Crowley's hair. "Before, I mean."

"No," Crowley says immediately.

"How can you be so sure?" the angel asks curiously. "When I try to remember the Beginning, there are moments that seem strange. Memories that seem... unstable, somehow. I'm actually missing quite a lot of the War—"

"Stop," Crowley says softly.

Aziraphale does, shutting his mouth abruptly to prevent the words from escaping. He'd once promised he would always stop, no matter what, if Crowley asked him to; they'd both known he hadn't just been talking about sex.

"If we didn't meet," Crowley says quietly, "which is likely—Heaven is a big place, and I wasn't there long—then my losses are bearable. But if we did meet..." The demon pauses, as if the words are stuck in his throat. "I would definitely remember you," he says at last. "You're... Well, there's no way I'd be able to forget."

"I'd never forget this hair," Aziraphale smiles, aiming for levity. "I've never seen anything like it in Heaven."

Crowley smiles back at him, but it's small and sad. "So if we met, but neither of us remember," he says, "then the implication is that the ones who Fell were erased from celestial history[5]. That taking my name meant taking all the _memories_ of me, as well. That's awful, and I refuse to believe it's the truth."

"I understand," Aziraphale says quietly. The idea of Crowley alone and totally forgotten breaks his heart[6].

"We didn't meet," Crowley says firmly, then rolls onto his side to push his face against the angel's soft stomach. Aziraphale starts gently stroking his hair again.

"Humans celebrate new beginnings," Crowley says, voice muffled. "Can we?"

"Do you have any suggestions?" Aziraphale asks. Crowley shifts a little, then carefully starts undoing the angel's trouser fly buttons with his mouth. "Oh, you wicked serpent," Aziraphale says fondly. "Go on then."

Eventually they get up off the couch and go to bed. Crowley tucks himself up against the angel's side and nuzzles into his chest. "G'night, love," he says, then seems to fall asleep immediately.

Aziraphale watches the silver moonlight settle on the strands of Crowley's copper hair and is so happy he could cry. "New beginnings, indeed," he murmurs softly. "Sleep well, dearest."

**********

Clicking on the arrows below will bring you back to the related footnote within the text:

> [1] Aziraphale doesn't mind the self-described "queer kids" who seem to have adopted his shop; they're polite, don't try to buy his books, and never leave any rubbish behind. He knows he can't change the world for them—unfortunately they have to do that themselves—but Mr. Fell can at least offer them a safe meeting place. [↩]
> 
> [2] In 200 B.C., Chinese alchemists mixed together saltpeter, sulfur and charcoal to create a crude form of gunpowder. Some of the first firecrackers were bamboo shoots, packed with this explosive mixture, which created a loud blast when thrown into a fire. Firecrackers evolved quickly; paper tubes replaced bamboo stalks, and fuses made from tissue paper were added. 
> 
> Knowledge of [fireworks](http://www.livescience.com/63468-fireworks-history.html) eventually spread to the West, and credit for developing them into the art form we know today has to be awarded to the Italians. Pyrotechnic schools popped up across Europe during the Renaissance, and throughout the 1830s the Italians incorporated trace amounts of metals and other ingredients into the flammable mix; this enhanced brightness and allowed them to make creative shapes. Up until that point, the only colours that fireworks could produce were yellows and oranges; the Italians added strontium to create red, barium to create green, copper to create blue, and sodium to create yellow. [↩]
> 
> [3] Juniper has been traditionally used in Scottish folkloric saining rites, such as those performed at Hogmanay; the smoke of burning juniper is used to cleanse, bless, and protect the household and its inhabitants. Other uses of juniper revolve around taking someone into your protection, which makes it very popular for initiations, ceremonies, and other similar welcomes and fresh starts. Juniper trees are symbolic of a great journey, having taken many twists and turns but staying true to yourself. [↩]
> 
> [4] Exodus 23:20-21 states that angels have the name of God in them. By taking their angelic names away, removing all traces of their connection to the Eternal Presence of God, the supreme judgement that caused their Fall also became divine punishment. [↩]
> 
> [5] Heaven may have invented _damnatio memoriae_ , but it wasn't completely successful; Crowley's original name was preserved through human folklore. Samael was one of the seven archangels, the chief angel of the fifth heaven, and the main archangel of death. The Book of Enoch paints him as one of the angels who rebelled against God, but not their leader; it was he who took the form of a snake in order to tempt Eve in the Garden. He has been regarded as both good and evil, and is quite an important figure in Talmudic lore. [↩]
> 
> [6] It does however go a long way towards explaining why demons, in general, are so awful to each other. Without hope or any prior memories of friendship to temper hostility, a "tit for tat" mentality quickly becomes toxic. [↩]

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by drawlight's [Advent Project](https://drawlight.tumblr.com/post/189391982184/drawlight-drawlight-aziraphale-crowley-for).
> 
> #IneffableHolidays / 31 Days of Ineffables


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